Yoga?
Shit…yoga. The beeping was her alarm.
She shot up, gaze flicking to the time.
Eight. It was eight and the class started at nine. That was doable. She could make it. Of course she could make it. She just had to wake the heck up and lose the headache.
Good God, why had she drunk her body weight in beer last night?
She stood, and her belly rolled with alcohol-induced nausea.
Regrets. So many regrets.
She’d barely taken a step toward the bathroom when the note on the bedside table caught her attention. The piece of paper sat beside a glass of water and two small pills. There was no way Drunk Polly left those.
She scrunched her nose at the memory of Joel. Of undressing in front of him. Of asking him to hold her while she fell asleep.
Damn you, Drunk Polly.
She lifted the note, and her heart did that thing where it squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe.
Advil and water. And don’t forget to eat, Sunshine.
Sweet. It was really sweet. And thoughtful.
She traced the letters with her gaze for far too long before she jolted. What was she doing? She didn’t have time to obsess over a man’s handwriting and kind gestures.
Quickly, she downed the Advil, took a short shower, and threw on leggings, a sports bra, and sweatshirt. One coffee with two shots later, and she was out of the house. She thought she’d moved pretty quickly, but when she reached the community center it was five to nine and the place was packed.
Crap. She’d wanted to get here early so she could locate and strategically place her mat beside Nancy’s. She didn’t even know who Nancy was.
Maureen looked up from a nearby mat and smiled before coming over. “Polly, dear, you came.”
“I did.” Somehow. “Could you point Nancy out for me?”
“Nancy?”
“I want to give her my condolences.” Big. Fat. Lie.
Maureen frowned like she saw right through her. “She’s just?—”
“All right everyone, let’s start,” a middle-aged woman called from the front.
Maureen patted her shoulder. “It’s time to begin. Find a space for your mat, dear.”
Therewasno space. But Maureen was already walking away.
Was there etiquette about how close she could put her mat to another? She had no idea. She chose a spot in the back row, offering the middle-aged woman beside her an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, is it okay if I squeeze in here?”
“Of course.” The blond shifted her mat, giving Polly a bit more room.
Polly rolled out her mat. She’d bought this baby about ten years ago, when she’d momentarily thought yoga would solve all her problems. It had solved precisely zero, and the hobby had lasted four weeks and six classes.
The class started, and if Polly had been regretting her night out when her alarm went off, that was nothing compared to now. Yoga with a hangover was hell. The kind that had her belly rolling and her head aching. There was one point when everyone did downward dog, and Polly just sat there and watched because even just observing the move made her hungover ass feel sick.
The woman beside her smiled. “First time?”
